Let's go I'm painting, I'm painting again I'm painting, I'm painting again I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning again I'm cleaning, I'm cleaning my brain Pretty
Traduzione: Talking Heads. Solo gli artisti.
give me some head while I'm in the studio, try to make that bread not a contriet dude, or of with ya head yo, 1st Infantry and fed we gonna give you
[Aesop Rock] Yo change the fuckin channel I burn a Coma candle When the flame fades, consider my flatline a soldier's sample We them cats talkin noise
it that way She had a man now: Rico, similar, hermit They would only see each other once or twice a week on purpose They appreciated space and Rico was an artist
or blue new wall cap Pause that bull shit you talking bout Before the people start walkin out If you please we succeed regardless Shine the hardest and I'll sign an artist
J-walkin like you rockin S-dots Swing midevil swords with lethal force behead ya soldiers Not talkin soap but these bullets will clean ya head and shoulders
Come back in later days. Talk to me when you're certain You're always changing. Never stay the same person Come back in later days. Talk to me when you
you up in my world [Verse One] My ghetto pass go state to state I could go in any hood 'cuz I ain't fake I'll bob my head, I'll stomp my feet For Soulja
only women, got no time for little girls [KRS sings again] Cause girls look so good but their brain is not ready, I don't know I'd rather talk
I'll get a pen, a pencil, a marker mainly what I write is for the average New Yorker some mc's be talkin' and talkin' tryin' to show how black people
TRYIN to hear that I don't dress up to rap or keep a hairdo I only grab the mic and bust holes in a crew I deny your existence as artists You're puttin
the bottom when you enter {Verse Three: Keith Murray} Hey yo once a crack head, always a tack head You have no craftibility all that shit you talk
it cost me, join the army Smoke Bob Marley, the sergent major honorably discharge me From my sentimiliar and my hemping sence Inspiration, why is it only
the first one left unconcious? After I squeeze your head like the Charmin Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat and squeeze till your head
battle me; so they'd rather embarrass me By being mad at me, they commit microphone heresy Clairvoyant Technique, usin' X-Ray refraction Not only can
call Minister Farrakhan So he could persuade me to squash it, I saw naw he started it He forgot what a hardcore artist is A hardcore artist is a dangerous
play the guitar, I play my cadence And If I exhaled arguments only to hold my breath I would die and I ain't talking hair color I'm talkin about the